


The Hitchhiker's Guide to Sunbathing, in 5+1 scenes

by FireWithFire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beach Volleyball, Beach time, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Girls' dynamics, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Sunburn, Surfing, building sandcastles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:44:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireWithFire/pseuds/FireWithFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five scenes from the beach.<br/>The beach?<br/>Ah, yeah. They went to the beach. Derek, too, Stiles made him. And they all had fun, even if they would rather die than admit it.<br/>And one scene extra.<br/>Because we all went through <i>that</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hitchhiker's Guide to Sunbathing, in 5+1 scenes

**Author's Note:**

> Just for more imagery, you can use [this verbal picture](http://archiveofourown.org/works/643864) to imagine the beach.  
> No pressure, though, whatever you have in mind is good.

**Prologue**

“We’re going to the beach!”

“Have fun.”

“Oh, no, grumpy wolf, you are going with us.”

“Who’s ‘us’?”

“All of us! Your betas, me, Lydia, Scott, even Allison.”

“Peter?”

“It was his idea.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yeah. You either come with us, bond with your pack and friends and have moderate amount of fun, not too much for you, it may kill you if you go into a shock, or I’m going back home and no Stiles lovin’ for you, mister.”

“Please stop calling it that.”

“Will you come with us?”

“Fine.”

“I heard that sigh! Put on your swimming suit, and please tell me it’s not something taken from the 1920s catalogue.”

“It’s not.”

“I trust you. Get a towel and we’ll meet downstairs with the rest in half an hour.”

****

*

****

**Scene I**

“This place looks nice,” Lydia commanded, looking around a fairly secluded and, what’s more important, empty part of the beach.

“It does,” Peter agreed. “Any vetoes? None? Fine, let’s set up!”

Derek came last, dragging all the stuff they gave him.

“Here, I’ll help you. You look like a pack animal,” Stiles said, thrusting his surfboard into the sand and coming to him and taking some things off his back. Derek shot him a murderous glance. “Oh, sorry, pun not intended!”

It was amazing, but with nine of them, the place soon started to look like a tiny town, living its own short-term life. Allison set up a beach parasol for her, and made sure all the portable coolers are safely hidden in the shadow. Lydia and Erica went crazy in their personal little one-upmanship, trying to be more girly than the other one, more feminine, focus more attention on themselves. Peter somehow managed to get a radio, to which he plugged his USB stick and started some nice music, ensuring everybody repeatedly that he, in fact, had remembered to bring extra batteries with him. In the meantime, Boyd and Scott journeyed to the nearest shop (which, in fact, was not all that near) to buy drinks. Why bother to drag them from the house, if you can overpay for them at the beach (with Peter’s card)?

Stiles spent all that time teaching Isaac how to surf. How to properly stand on the board, how to recognize which waves are good for surfing and which are a waste of time.

Speaking of waste of time. Derek decided that laying down his and Stiles’ towels (next to each other, of course, how else) was more than enough work for his taste. He just took off his shirt and shorts, staying in his dark blue trunks (which made Stiles lose his train of thought and blush a little; he would’ve never suspected that Derek could own a piece of clothing that would make his ass look even better).

“Isaac, honey,” Lydia chirped, waving at the puppywolf. “Could you help me put the sunscreen on?”

Isaac excused himself to Stiles and skipped to her. Lydia untied the strings of her bikini bra and laid on her stomach coyly, so that he could rub sunscreen on her back. Erica, seeing that, lifted her head and scanned the surroundings for Boyd, with whom she could do the same, only a bit more sluttily. She quickly realised that her man was away providing supplies, and that put her at an impas. She could ask Derek, but that wouldn’t be the wisest nor the most successful try of her life. There was Allison, but then that whole saucy flirting would not occur, and she wouldn’t beat Lydia.

“Stiles, sweetie!”, she shouted to him. “Come here for a moment!”

Sure, Stiles was helpful, and very careful, as if he was afraid she might gouge his eyeballs (or, as we’re at it, just balls) out if he touches her in a wrong way.

In the middle of rubbing, Erica heard something that sounded like a distant thunder. She gazed at the sky, but there was no big or grey clouds there, frankly, there were very few small and fluffy white ones, too. The sky was as clear as it could get. She glimpsed to the sea in hopes of finding a motorboat, or something, when she heard the low, rumbling noise again. She looked to her left and found the source, spread on his back, eyeing her angrily and growling at her. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She knew Stiles wouldn’t be able to hear that sound, a frequency much lower than the human ear could perceive.

“Okay, thanks!”, she said quickly to Stiles. “Oh, look, Boyd’s back, he can take over, thanks!”

Stiles shrugged. He gave up hope of ever understanding her long time ago. He walked to his towel and laid close to alpha, stealing a kiss from him as the werewolf started to put sunscreen on him.

****

*

****

**Scene II**

“Allison, come on, play with us!”, Scott said, nuzzling her neck.

“I can’t!”, she said. “With my complexion, even a _moonburn_ is a serious issue and you know that.”

All that was caused by the guys. Scott, Stiles, Boyd and Isaac wanted to play volleyball. They even had a net, courtesy of Peter Hale Incorporated, the pack’s best warehouse of things nobody would suspect he could have.

No, that is not true. All that was caused by Erica. She wanted to join them, too, even though Stiles was pretty sure he’d get screwed all over in this game. So, he suggested that Lydia might want to join.

“Are you nuts?”, she said, leafing through a glossy magazine that makes regular women hate themselves. “I like my fingers and my nails exactly the state they are now.”

So, they went to Allison.

“Again, no,” she responded to Scott’s puppy eyes. “I have like a half a bottle of sunblock on me, and I still can feel the sun frying my skin through the parasol.”

“Come on, Allison, please,” Stiles begged quietly. “I need to have someone else human in the game, I don’t want to get my butt kicked from here to eternity by those toothy idiots!”

“I can’t, seriously! My family has a history of skin problems, from rashes to melanomas, and I’m white at a sheet of paper. Do you two want to get me killed?”

“She’s right,” Stiles sighed, patting Scott’s arm. “She shouldn’t risk her health for a volleyball game. I just won’t play in this round, because let’s face it, even three on two is not exactly fair, you all are good, but not _that_ good. I’ll just come in later to switch with someone.”

“Didn’t you mean to say that you’re not that _bad_?”, Scott joked, grabbing the ball.

“Hey, I’ll play with you,” Derek said, making everyone turn their heads at him. “What? I can play volleyball and I’m better than all of you. Scott, Stiles and me versus Isaac, Erica and Boyd, how about that?”

The betas had nothing to say here, actually. They could only nod.

Scott looked at Derek and nodded too, then looked at Stiles. And Derek again. And Stiles. After exchanging an understanding look, they both smiled. Viciously, mischievously.

Exactly the same way.

They’d definitely been spending too much time together.

****

*

****

**Scene III**

Lydia turned to her side and gracefully lied like a model, looking around from behind her golden-framed glassed.

Erica flipped to her back and bent her right leg, making sure her thigh is properly sunscreened by running her hand up and down it.

Lydia took a bottle of water from the cooler and drank some from it.

Erica took a bottle of water from the cooler, drank some from it and ran the cold bottle down her stomach, hissing softly through her teeth.

Lydia dropped her bracelet while taking them off to go into the ocean, and picked it up.

Erica dropped her earring, and bent over without bending her knees even a little to pick it up.

Lydia looked at Erica over her glasses with disbelief and amusement.

Erica looked at Lydia with pride and contempt.

Lydia lay in the sun.

Erica tried to lie in the sun _more_.

****

*

****

**Scene IV**

“Okay, lie down on the board.”

“Like this?”

“A bit more to the front, fine, that’s it. You have to be right along the middle of the board.”

Isaac really tried to follow Stiles’ instructions. He could get really messy and lose the track multiple times during one sentence, but at least he knew what to do. Isaac had no idea. He just stole Peter’s credit card and got himself a surfboard with a hope of getting to learn how to use it in the future.

The future came and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Alright, now you need to learn how to stand up. Put your hands on both sides of your chest, like you were trying to do a push-up. A bit closer. Yeah. And now, one motion, try to put your feet where your chest is now. One swift motion, don’t jump too much, just... push!”

The first try, he pushed his feet too far ahead and landed square on his butt. He heard Boyd and Erica snickering, but Stiles was very understanding. The second try, he did it mostly right.

“Okay, bravo, dude, it took me like an hour to learn how to do it without faceplanting or landing on my ass!”, Stiles praised him.

“Because you were made of knees and elbows and your coordination is below zero,” Isaac remarked, suddenly realising how rude it might’ve sounded. But Stiles laughed, and he could even hear Derek snorting.

“That’s true, I was. Okay, try the standing up a couple more times. If you make a slight mistake, you’ll fall into the water, and Erica will never let you live it down.”

“It’s true, I won’t!”, they heard her shout.

Isaac knew that. He also knew Lydia was watching him, he heard her heartbeat speed up when he first failed. Even though he appeared to be reading some gossip magazine and chatting with Allison, he could feel her eyes fixed on him.

“Great, remember - crouch slowly, stand quickly. One swift motion. Are you ready to fall into the water a couple million times?”, Stiles said.

“I think I am...”

And Stiles dragged him to the water. It wasn’t cold exactly, but Isaac shuddered when they went knees deep. And, as usual, going waist deep was really hard.

He did splash. He fell face first in the water more times than he cared, wanted to remember. So many waves hit him and dragged him from the board they could start a club. Erica had made more snarky comments about his inability to stand than she had ever made in her entire life. Only Stiles never gave up hope. And Stiles shouted in triumph when Isaac finally managed to get his own wave without falling down, he even jumped up, forgetting that he was standing on a surfboard, and slipped and fell right into another wave.

They went out of the water half an hour later, wet, dripping and cold. Isaac ran to Lydia and stood over her, little drops of cool salty water falling on her back. She screamed when they touched her skin, heated by the sun.

Stiles went over to Derek, who was lying on his back, eyes closed, as quietly as he only could, and jumped on alpha. The werewolf hissed when the teenager’s cold skin touched his, opened his eyes, which for a split second flashed red and looked at grinning Stiles on him.

“Do you have a deathwish?”, Lydia and Derek said in unison. They looked at each other with surprise and agreement.

And then, Derek sat up, grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and rolled him in the sand couple of times. A punishment must be.

****

*

****

**Scene V**

“I’m bored,” Scott said.

“Take off your clothes and guard them,” Erica suggested.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Allison growled.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

“You know damn well what I meant!”

“Girls,” Isaac stepped up. “Come on.”

“Come on what, let them swing their nails at each other a couple of times and we’ll have peace again,” Peter suggested from his deckchair.

Lydia kicked him.

“There are more subtle way of solving this,” she said. “How about a competition?”

“What do you have in mind?”, Stiles asked, curious enough to stop playing with the sand and making patterns out of it on Derek’s back.

“Sandcastle building contest,” Lydia explained.

“So we’re going to wallow in the sand, and you all are going to watch us?”, Allison said doubtfully.

“No, we need a male category, too. Any volunteers?”

“Can we challenge somebody?”, Scott asked.

“Sure.”

“Then I challenge Derek.”

Everybody went quiet. Derek rolled to the side, ruining what was left of the sandlines on his back. He glared at Scott with an unreadable expression.

“Fine, I agree,” he said finally. “Prepare to be defeated.”

They set up four areas, one for each of them - Allison’s was under a parasol, of course. Each of them got a helper, too, so they wouldn’t have to run around themselves. Derek got Stiles, Erica got Boyd, Scott got Isaac and Allison had Peter (after a fierce battle of looks between Lydia and Peter; she won, Peter couldn’t believe it, but she kind of made a strong eyepoint).

“Okay, you have thirty minutes,” Lydia said, setting up a timer on her phone. “Technique is free, do whatever you like. Stealing sand is prohibited, so is sabotage, digging tunnels under someone else’s castle and destroying others’ work in any other way. Do you understand?”

They nodded.

“Great. Helpers can’t take part in actual building, they can provide materials, drinks and moral support, is that clear?”

“Is she always this bossy?”, Peter said quietly leaning over to Allison’s ear.

“I said, _is that clear!_ ”, Lydia shouted.

“Yes, ma’am!”, they responded.

“Good. Now, three, two, one, go!”

Oh, she had never had such fun before. She could watch them all day, too bad she only had half an hour. The hardest part was to decide what was funnier, watching the four dum-dums trying to make pwetty wittle castles out of sand, water and sticks (and shells, Stiles’ great idea that all the rest copied immediately), or seeing how the helpers tried to obey every order given them, even if it meant running all over the beach. Or maybe the fact that she made them all do all that without so much as lifting a finger. Those werewolves were easy to manipulate, but she expected so much more from Allison!

“Okay, time’s up, put your sand down and step away from the castles!”, Lydia commanded, taking her phone and making a photo of the scene. Then, she rolled to her back and started tapping the screen.

“Hey, you’re supposed to choose winners!”, Scott shouted.

“Yeah? Well, it seems that I won. This picture will go all over facebook and twitter, captioned ‘look what I made eight idiots do’,” she said. “But fine, I’ll choose winners. As for girls, the winner is Allison. Erica, come on, it looks like a molehill after an earthquake, the the sticks are not helping. Don’t get so smug, Al, yours looks just a little better. But, still, better, I appreciate that you tried to make a tower. For guys, Derek won. Come on Scott, you can do better. Derek tried, what did you try to make, a volcano for a science fair? There, get off my head.”

They all sat down in mixed moods. Erica was angry, but she understood the decision. She should’ve made a tower, too, but she wasted so much time arguing with Boyd she had very little left. Allison was gloating, obviously, which made Scott even more furious than he was. He would be so much happier for his girlfriend if he had won with Derek, who was now reaping his prizes from Stiles.

Lydia had the feeling it was the last time they would ever agree to do something that absurd. She was very glad she took pictures.

****

*

****

**Scene +1**

“Don’t touch me!”

“Stop being a baby, it’s just a sunburn.”

“But it hurts!”

“You should’ve used a sunblock.”

“I had sunscreen on, you put it on me!”

“Sure, but then you went to the water a thousand times and washed it all off. I thought you put it on every time you went out!”

“Well I didn’t, and I’m almost as pale as Allison, ow, ow ow ow, stop whatever you’re doing to me!”

“Be quiet, will you? It’s a foam for burns, it will help. And you’ll have to sleep on your stomach for a day or two.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I burned my chest, too, I think, only a bit less so my back is drowning out the pain from the front.”

“You are impossible. I can’t let you be without supervision for two hours, can I.”

“No, you can’t. And you shouldn’t. Ow, okay, enough, please, how long will you rub that foam in?”

“Oh, I’m done for some time now, now it’s just to make sure you’ll be careful next time.”

“I will, hands off! I am hurt, cuddle me. Only gently! Careful. I’m very fragile.”

“Yeah, you are.” 


End file.
